Flesh and Stone
by Foxfire1
Summary: A vignette from Jaenelle's childhood. **REPOST**


Disclaimer/Author's Note: The Black Jewels books and all their characters belong to Anne Bishop; I'm just sneaking in the back door to play for a minute. The story itself came about because I've always wondered what was behind "My uncle's stone..." that Khardeen used to blackmail Jaenelle in the second book. Here's my theory. :-)  
  
Author's Note #2: This is a repost, after I took the story down for personal reasons. Hopefully it's good enough to post twice; my apologies for taking it down in the first place. :-)  
  
Pleasantly full, Khardeen leaned back against the wall of his uncle's garden and made a valiant effort to stifle a belch. Had they been present, any one of his uncle's brood of boys would have applauded him for letting it out instead, but he had Ladies for company and Ladies didn't like things like that.  
  
They'd sure liked the brambleberry pie, though. He'd...acquired, was probably the best word...two of the fresh pies downstairs, carrying them out under a sight shield while Morghann kept the cook busy with a series of wide-eyed questions about the spices she used. It had taken more time to smuggle them out to the garden than for the three of them to demolish the pies - Morghann's appetite was always respectable, but Jaenelle had devoured her share with a speed that made him a little nervous. Khary was growing and _always_ hungry, but Jaenelle was just a little bit of a thing. She shouldn't be acting half-starved like that, not unless...well, unless she actually _was_.  
  
But Jaenelle didn't like questions, and if he pushed too hard, she might bolt. So he'd try and coax her into staying a few more hours instead, so he could introduce another snack without looking like he was trying to feed her. Meanwhile, it was good enough to sit chasing the last traces of brambleberry out of the pie dish, watching Morghann and Jaenelle play whispery, giggly girl games in a corner of the garden. When they started talking about herbs, he drifted over to join them. Jaenelle always knew some fascinating little tidbit that nobody else did...besides, Morghann tended to try out her doses on _him_, and he liked to know what to brace himself for.  
  
When Morghann started speculatively eyeing a shrub that _he_ had always thought was purely ornamental, Khary started nudging the two young Queens out of the garden. Hints about the new plants in his uncle's greenhouse didn't work, but the fact that one of the barn cats had just delivered a new litter did. Jaenelle brightened and dashed for the stables, with Morghann half a step behind her.  
  
Then she stopped in her tracks, halfway across the drive that curved in front of his uncle's manor. Morghann skidded to a stop in the raked gravel, following Jaenelle's awestruck gaze to the statue that held pride of place in the front courtyard. Jaenelle looked like she'd seen a - well, Jaenelle probably _had_ seen dragons - but her sapphire eyes were filled with wonder as she looked up at the statue.  
  
"Ohhh," she said on a long delighted sigh. "I knew about unicorns, but I've never seen something like _that_."  
  
"That" was the statue Khary's uncle had commissioned, a testament to his love of horses and his love of Craft - a life-sized, winged horse, caught prancing in place with its feathered wings spread wide. When he stretched out his psychic senses, he could feel the spells networked painstakingly through the stone, keeping the delicate wings in place.  
  
"I've never seen any kindred like that at all," Jaenelle said. "I wish..."  
  
Afterward, Khary was never sure who started it. He took a deep breath to announce his wonderful idea, just as Morghann bit her lip thoughtfully and Jaenelle's eyes went mischievously bright. But the result was the same: Jaenelle marching up to the statue and reading out to touch one prancing leg. Warmth and movement flowed out from where her palm lay against the stone, rippling out in a tide of pewter-dappled fur and flickering feathers.  
  
Khary stepped forward despite himself to stroke the arched neck. Morghann was bouncing on her heels, caught between curiosity and the urge to ride - to fly, even if the wings were borrowed. Jaenelle was watching them both with a proud but unsure smile, her face drawn tight with concentration.  
  
"I can't hold it forever," she admitted when she caught Khary's concerned look. "Just for a little while - but look, _he_ wants to fly too."  
  
The winged horse snorted and nudged Khary imperiously. He scrambled up the pedestal to mount - then stopped, looking at Morghann. Khary thought the horse was wonderful, but _she'd_ gone all starry-eyed; witches always seemed to be enchanted by horses, and apparently a bespelled stone horse was no exception.  
  
Besides, he'd give up a lot more than an airborne ride to keep that starry look in her eyes. He stepped down and offered Morghann a leg up.  
  
"You don't mind?"  
  
"'Course not," he said stoutly.  
  
She kissed his cheek and scrambled aboard, clutching at the horse's granite- grey mane. Vast wings beat, and the horse lifted gracefully into the air, trailing a stray feather and Morghann's delighted giggle.  
  
Jaenelle grinned and raced off after the flying horse, Khary hard on her heels. Above them, the horse circled and soared, leading them toward the relative seclusion of his uncle's greenhouse. Clever Morghann - something like this would definitely draw attention, and more questions than even _he_ could talk his way out of. As long as no one was outside to notice the missing statue, they should be safe enough.  
  
Jaenelle was looking the tiniest bit strained by the time the flying horse alit, but she gave Khary a stubborn look when he would have hung back. And he didn't argue with looks like that, not from a Queen. He scrambled onto the horse and hung on tight.  
  
It was wonderful. Faster and more willing than the best hunter he'd ever ridden, it would have been sheer joy even on the ground. But with the rush of air and the sweep of great wings in his ears, it was like becoming the hero of some nursery-story. He could swoop in with Jewels blazing to defend some valiant young Queen...  
  
An indignant shout from the gardens they'd played in earlier told him that Cook had just discovered the trail of havoc they'd left. Fortunately, she wasn't about to look up, not with all those footprints and the occasional crumpled plant to look at, but he could _hear_ her all the way up here. Something about digging up the carrot patch-  
  
He sensed the change in Jaenelle's psychic scent - a sudden spike of fear and horror - at the same time he felt the magic leave the horse he rode. Wings gone stiff and stony, it plummeted toward the greenhouse below. He didn't have the Craft to hold it up, didn't think he even had the Craft to save himself, but he tapped his Jewels to try anyway.  
  
He heard Jaenelle's dismayed yelp and felt her power wrap around him, pulling him away from the horse and down to the ground before it crashed through the greenhouse roof. Glass sprayed everywhere, sliding off the shield Morghann threw around the three of them. He could barely hear Jaenelle over the sound of bursting glass, but her voice came clear enough a moment later.  
  
"I'm so sorry-"  
  
He dusted himself off. "Just a bit dizzy, no harm done."  
  
"We're going to be in _so much_ trouble." That was Morghann, staring apprehensively at the ruins of the greenhouse. The walls were still standing, but the roof was gone, and he didn't want to _think_ about what the inside looked like.  
  
Or how they were going to explain his uncle's statue, inside the greenhouse and in a completely new pose.  
  
Khary frowned in thought, more aware than he liked of the rush of adult attention and concern coming from inside the house. They didn't have much time. He didn't much mind for himself and Morghann - they'd get in trouble, but that was the price you paid sometimes for doing what you wanted. But Jaenelle was deathly afraid of _something_, and he wanted to keep it away from her if he could. Hiding her from the grown-ups was a good first step.  
  
He turned toward the other two, thinking hard. "Morghann, go get whatever you use to play potions with, and get it out here. Jaenelle, can you do anything with that horse?"  
  
Wide-eyed, she nodded.  
  
"Then we're not in as much trouble as I thought. Try and get it back to the pedestal, then go on - um, wherever it is you go. Morghann and I will cover your tracks."  
  
She gave him a long blue stare that reminded him she was a Queen and not just his friend, but there was respect in that look as well. "I'll see you when I can, then, Warlord." Her fingertips ghosted across his wrists in formal farewell, and she darted to the greenhouse, running a handspan above the shards of glass. She whispered in the ear of the fallen statue and stood back as it lumbered to its feet and picked its way out of the greenhouse, launching into a slow glide that would carry it back to the pedestal.  
  
He ducked as a cast-off mortar and pestle sailed past him and into the guardhouse, followed by an array of spoons and bowls. _Smart_ Morghann, realizing she could get her gear to him faster by Craft than by running. When he looked back, Jaenelle was gone and Morghann was pelting up behind him.  
  
"Is she safe?" she asked breathlessly.  
  
"Well, she's gone, anyway." Jaenelle was too afraid, too often, for him to believe she was safe, but he could only protect her while she was here. "And we have to hurry."  
  
Working together, they did the best to make the greenhouse look as if something had blown out, not fallen in. Morghann used Craft to send the larger pieces of glass outward, while Khary straightened squashed plants and artistically arranged the bowls and equipment she'd brought. They were clinging together and doing their best to look shaken and frightened, rather than conniving, when his uncle burst in with half the family behind him. "What in all of Hell have you been _doing_, boy?" he roared.  
  
Khary moved to stand in front of Morghann, tucked his hands in his pockets, and tried on his best cook-charming, tutor-placating smile. "Well, it's like this.." he began.  
  
  
  
Khary shut the door of his room behind him. He and Morghann had been sent to their rooms supperless until the next morning - equal punishments, since they'd managed to split the blame equally between themselves. He'd told everyone that Morghann had been brewing potions to learn how to create illusions, and that he'd egged her on until she created one too volatile for either of their skills. He didn't think his uncle believed him; after all the fuss had died down, the older man had taken a long, hard look in his eyes, and apparently liked what he saw. *Whatever you're protecting, boy, guard it well.* That, and nothing more, on a private spear thread - and then he and Morghann had gotten packed off to their bedrooms.  
  
But the price for today's adventure was one he didn't mind paying. Especially not when-  
  
His eyes fell on the desk across from his bed, and he started laughing quietly. Lying neatly across the clutter was a single grey feather, as long as his arm. He picked it up and stroked it; it felt as real as if it had dropped from a bird's wing and not from a piece of magic come to life.  
  
He grinned to himself, emptied his pockets of the pears he'd filched from the greenhouse, and sent half of them floating down the hall to Morghann. Then, with a half-eaten pear in one hand and the feather in the other, he settled comfortably on the bed to wait out his punishment.  
  
Everything had a price. Most things were worth it.  
  
-end- 


End file.
